Brothers Raising Brothers
by unbearablelightness
Summary: Richie asks Danny when his feelings for Mindy began.
1. Richie

**Brothers Raising Brothers**

Honestly, Danny couldn't entirely locate when his feelings for Mindy began. The truth was that he didn't really spend long hours trying to decipher the when or why of his feelings; rather, Danny just decided to focus on the present and how he was going to be productive with them.

If he _had_ to articulate the details of his feelings, which his brother Richie insisted that he did, Danny would proceed as follows: shifting uncomfortably, straightening his spine to square his shoulders in defiance, and saying something vague like "I don't know. We work together every day."

Richie hated that answer. Blankly, he told Danny that saying "We work together" does not answer the multipart question Richie had asked.

It was November. It had been a couple of months since Mindy had returned from her ill-fated trip to Haiti with her pastor boyfriend. Almost immediately after her return to the practice, Mindy and Casey broke up, prompting Danny to awake from the denial of his troubled relationship with Christina. It was July when Mindy came back, and Danny hummed and hawed over what to do about Christina until September.

Christina broke up with Danny before Danny ever got around to it. She left him with the same piercing, unsolicited truth that Richie was giving Danny this night: "You're in love with Mindy Lahiri and are not doing anything about it. Do something."

So, here he was, two months later, invited out to a bar with floor to ceiling exposed brick and three dollar tequila shots by his younger brother. Danny was subject to relationship advice that he did not ask for. Richie, only loosely informed on the goings on of Danny's working and personal relationship with Mindy, insisted that Danny really get a grip on the reality of his feelings.

Richie framed his argument in a variety of straight-forward, brotherly ways: "You're not getting any younger" and "Is _not _being with Mindy at all really better than trying and it not workin' out?"

These were all logical arguments. Danny thought about this, sipping on his second pint of Guinness, only partially listening to Richie relay a story about his buddy Kevin and his girlfriend Sarah. The story was meant to be a prototype, Danny knew, but was stuck on what Richie had said before.

These were fairly simple statements and surely couple be found in any magazine where relationships were discussed. But had Danny really understood the implications? No. He wasn't getting any younger. Danny was inching closer to forty years old, sure. But what the hell did that even mean? That he had to be secured into a monogamous relationship before he was forty or his life was a write-off?

Come on. Whether it was perceived as arrogance or not, Danny knew that his life was full of many other accomplishments that were equally as comforting and impressive as being married.

Richie finished his tale of Kevin and Sarah, waving his hand like Danny could assume the rest of the story. Danny hadn't been listening, but he guessed that Richie meant to imply that …what was the story? That Kevin and Sarah were friends or something? And maybe the waving off was them getting married?

Danny really hadn't listened. He was horrible at having this types of conversations, these prolonged dissections of personal topics. Danny tried to focus in again on what Richie was saying. He _was_ nearly forty, divorced, and really was trying to make an effort to be less closed-off.

The origin of Danny making this effort had a lot to do with Christina, Mindy, and Richie. In that order, actually. Danny had always known that he was widely perceived as gruff and secretive, having been told this his entire life and marriage. It was only in the last dozen months or so that being closed off took on a sour feeling. It wasn't a desirable trait, Danny realized. Christina hadn't taken any comfort in Danny being that kind of husband.

But…

Danny only began to take responsibility for this in the last year. Why? Well, his feelings for Mindy. I guess that was it. It made sense. Danny articulated this to Richie, who was trying so earnestly to help his brother. He began a little apprehensively: "I guess it's all been… in the last little while." Danny said, glancing up from his pint glass to Richie.

"This Mindy stuff?" Richie asked. Danny nodded, pleased with the truncated way Richie referred to Danny's feelings for Mindy. He _liked _speaking to his brother, the Italian from Staten Island, without using sensitive syntax. It calmed him down a little bit, relaxed him, reminded him that this was his younger brother he was talking to and Richie's persistence was purely out of their familial bond.

"Yeah. I mean, I've known her for a while. We did our residency together. But I was married and she was seeing this orthodontist guy." Danny shrugged.

"And then…" Richie looked at Danny like he was an idiot for not finishing a thought.

"What do you mean 'and then'?"

Richie jutted his head and raised his palms to the ceiling, gesturing for Danny to carry on. Richie, Danny realized, was similar to Mindy in their disregard for conventional social coyness. If either of them wanted more details, they would demand it.

"Okay, so… I don't know. I trust her. She asks me about myself. She makes me want to talk to her about…things."

"Good. That's good." Richie turned to wave the waitress down, raising two fingers to indicate two more pints. He rolled his hand toward Danny, indicating that he should keep talking. "Keep going."

"I don't… I thought that was it?"

"She makes you want to talk about things? That's it? That's all you know about your feelings for her?"

Sighing, Danny took another sip of his beer. He _wanted _to make an effort to open up about this. Christina divorcing Danny had much to do with his realization of his closeting his emotions. But she seemed accusatory. Mindy made Danny see that, while he _was_ closed off, that didn't have to be an unchanging quality.

Mindy had such an incredible hope in her. She maintained optimism for her future and dealt her past and present misfortunes in such a head-on way. Danny had never seen that in someone before. Mindy could be entirely chaotic and impulsive, as she had so clearly demonstrated at Tom's wedding, but she was honest. She allowed herself to feel what she felt, no matter how it made her look to others.

Danny had never done that. He swallowed everything, for a variety of reasons: vanity, fear, insecurity, and impatience. These were all parts of Danny that Mindy had seen and even mentioned, but she held none of them against him. Mindy had such an unconditional acceptance of everyone that was so incredibly attractive to Danny.

Mindy's commitment to being her authentic self was encouraging to Danny. If Mindy could live with such brazen honesty then Danny owed it to himself to be honest, too. For Danny to be open, he knew that Richie and Christina were right; he had to _do something _that was honest and vulnerable.

.

Their third pint arrived on the thick wooden table and Danny, draining the last of his previous glass, mulled over whether or not to begin what was going to be his next sentence. Staring at Richie, his reformed younger brother, Danny opened his mouth: "I think she's changing me. Or making me want to change." Danny hated the way that sentence sounded. It was probably a line from at least a hundred movies.

Richie cocked an eyebrow at this.

"I mean, my life has changed a lot this year. I wasn't…expecting most of it."

"Isn't that kind of the whole idea?"

"Not mine. I've had the same plan since college. Before college, even."

Richie looked at Danny like he was oblivious. "Plans change, brother. They _have _to. I know that you and Christina gettin' divorced wasn't in the plan…"

Danny interrupted Richie. "Yeah, but it's not even about Christina. I mean that… I've changed, kind of." Danny paused for a minute, surprised to hear himself speak his own words. Yes, plans with Christina changed, but that was getting to be a while ago and Danny wasn't… sad about those changes anymore. He had gotten used to them. The change that Danny was referring to was his own personal change. At the very least, it was his _desire _to be different.

Danny tried to get that point across to Richie, though his message came across slightly jumbled and confused. He asked Richie if it was even a real thing that people changed.

"Sure it is." Richie said this with great enthusiasm. He pointed at himself. "Look at me. I mean, you know my history." Richie was referring to his history of entitlement, of the financial manipulation that ultimately made Danny "cut him off" for as long as it took Richie to function independently. "I'm different. I'm really different than I was a couple of years ago." Richie counted on his fingers: "I've been at the same job for _three years_. Up for promotion in the new year." Richie winked, referring to his newly acquired position in advertising.

"That's great, Rich."

"Yeah it is. But the point is,_ I_ changed. I met Cathy a couple'a months after starting at Vetter's and I mean, hey, she's the best thing that ever happened to me. After you and Ma, I guess."

Danny laughed at this, rubbing his chin.

"Don't be so scared, Danny." Richie ended his sentence by taking a long sip of his Guinness, staring intently at his fidgeting older brother.

Danny was such a specific combination of stereotypical manliness and vulnerability that to truly _embrace_ his vulnerability and shortcomings was frightening. Danny was hesitant to believe that people could truly change. He'd spent so long being so focused on getting his degree, firmly implanting himself _away _from Staten Island, advancing his career, being married. Even after his marriage, with his career in place, Danny was all about avoidance. His seclusion was founded on numerous impulses, mostly out of self-preservation and a broad disinterest in people.

Not Mindy, though. Her eccentricity was so refreshing and complementary to Danny. He wanted to be around her. Being around her felt nice.

"You like this gal a lot, huh?" Richie asked, smiling, still holding his beer to his lips.

Danny met his brother's eyes, realizing that he hadn't said anything for over two minutes, but had just been looking down into the dark liquid of his beverage.

Danny hesitated.

What was the point of lying to his brother?

Danny feigned the pretense of objection, but all he could really do was nod. Yeah, he did.

"Alright, then, so ya gotta do something about it. Right? Ya know ya like her, ya different than ya were a year ago. Good." Richie sat back in his chair, glancing at the door. "This was progress, brother."

Danny nodded absently, tapping his thumb against the rim of his pint. Richie stood up, downed the last of his Guinness, and dropped crumbled cash on the table. "I gotta head home. I told Cathy I wouldn't be late."

Danny stood up, too, immediately reaching out to shake his brother's hand. This gesture fell into the realm of appropriate public displays of masculine affection, but Richie wasn't having any of it. Richie had huge amounts of affection for his older brother and unabashedly showed it, despite their relatively tight-laced Catholic upbringing.

"Listen Danny." Richie took Danny's outstretched hand. He held it in his own for a moment while he spoke. "I know that you work with this lady and I can see the little wheels turning in ya head about how, whatever, _going for it _might be risky. But hey, you're a good doc'ta." With his free hand, Richie poked Danny in his chest. Danny didn't deflect. "You'll always be able to get'ta job." Richie removed his finger from Danny's chest and shook their clasped hands tenderly. "Ya gotta go for Mindy."

Danny let his younger brother pull him in for a hug. Danny was often rigid when it came to physical affection, seizing up when someone wanted to show they cared through contact. Mindy did it all the time. She nudged him, grasped his forearm, hugged him, and stroked his face. She broke all the methods of self-preservation that Danny had built for himself.

Richie could read the thoughtful, contemplative look on his brother's face when he pulled away from their hug. "Alright. Lemme know how it goes."

Danny straightened and put his hands on his hips. Richie left the bar, going home to his girlfriend, Cathy, who he held no hesitancy about being in love with. Danny picked up the remainder of his beer, drinking it down in a few long sips before he left.

Danny left the bar, stiffening in the chilly November air outside. It was damn cold. Danny walked toward the sidewalk, ready to hail a cab. Standing on the curb, waiting for a cab to drive by, he checked his phone.

Two new messages: Mindy Lahiri.

Danny grinned. He opened the first message, revealing a picture of Mindy posing with a dated-looking book in a bookstore, her mouth wide open with surprise. The text accompanying the picture said: "Found 1st edition of Puzo's Godfather…Italian translation…u want?"

The second was just a text message. "No response means yes. You're welcome!"

Stepping into the approaching cab, Danny sat quietly in the back seat. He wasn't necessarily drunk, but he had that extremely optimistic elation that accompanies a few pints after a long day. Dissecting the origin of romantic feelings for someone was a difficult task to navigate; it wasn't in Danny's nature to approach something like this with an easygoing carefree attitude. Danny was into structure and logic and being in love with Mindy was not terribly logical nor condusive to his already-laid career plans.

Something interest, though, was the way that Danny just didn't…care. Yes, he could see how his feelings were sort of contradictory to the way that he had previously operated, but what did that even mean? Danny was happy. Mindy made him happy and her friendship and presence encouraged him to make himself happy.

Danny wanted to make Mindy the same kind of happy he felt.

Months ago, after he'd run in the triathalon against Brendan Deslaurier, Mindy had asked him if he was okay. He really, really hadn't been lying when he told her that he was always okay. Danny hadn't always been okay, and honestly, he felt exhausted, nauseated, and anxious about Christina at the time. But what was different was that he had this solace in Mindy, this confidante who proved to him that relying on other people wasn't some horribly weak thing.

Reopening the picture message, Danny understood that he really appreciated Mindy for that. With cold fingers from the weather and nerves, he typed: "Thank you."

_Fin._


	2. November

Brothers Raising Brothers

November continued on. Danny wasn't really sure what to _do. _He was stuck in a fairly neutral territory, left wondering if people just make decisions in times like this to encourage change. Danny and Mindy continued going to work, continued to lean on one another in small ways, whether it was professional consulting or one of them placing an order for the other's lunch while they were with a patient.

Previously, Danny had counted that as nothing, really. It was acts of civility, sure, but could he assume that Mindy knowing that Danny wanted olive relish _on the side _of his sandwich meant that she loved him?

Likely not. Danny figured that the sandwich thing and Mindy buying Danny the Italian copy of _The Godfather _were all positives, though. It was more of a relationship then they'd had a year ago at the time, when Dr. Shulman was leaving the practice and Mindy and Danny were arguing over who to hire as a replacement for Nurse Beverly.

Danny was hardly the sentimental type, but rewinding through the past year was almost incredible. Richie had repeatedly asked Danny when his feelings for Mindy began. Though Danny still couldn't pinpoint one defining moment, he was able to, with more human emotion than the emotionally frigid Danny had seen in himself in years, harken back to an interaction that nagged on his memory.

A year ago, riding the subway home with Mindy: it was a common occurrence that Danny had just come to put up with. They shared part of their route home and often left the office at the same time, so what, so they'd gotten onto the subway together and generally co-existed in the real world for twenty minutes.

The memory that stuck with him and, when he thought about it presently, seemed to really mark his progression of feelings for Mindy was his publicly declaring to a car full of onlookers that he would never marry this woman.

He'd said it just like that, defensively: "Okay, I would never marry this woman."

Even then he knew he was being harsh. Logic would tell him that his brashness toward Mindy and their polarity likely had to do with his developing crush on her and, consequently, the denial of those feelings. Because wasn't that really the answer to Richie's question of "When?"

It was in the fall of last year when Mindy began to get into his brain, when he began to heal from Christina, and he began to look _forward _to going to work for more reasons than just his love of obstetrics and gynaecology. Danny _liked _cocooning himself up with Mindy in the doctor's lounge at the hospital while they were on call or in between deliveries or surgeries. He'd learned the entire cast of at least three cities of _Real Housewives _and shared more bags of chips in his least-favorite (and Mindy's favorite) flavours than he'd ever predicted.

Shit, how their relationship _changed. _In that same season he'd vehemently told Mindy that he had no personal attachment to her, going so far as to compare her to a lamp.

At what point in the year had Danny lessened his defenses and allowed himself to get closer to her? When had he started referring to her as the abbreviated Min instead of merely Mindy or Dr. Lahiri? These types of things happen organically, progress as time passes and situations arise.

Now, though, this November, Danny was bewildered at how to accelerate change. He and Mindy were both friends, both unattached romantically, but continued to sit, sort of stagnant, at the level of friendship they'd been at for a while.

Danny had anticipated that, two months ago, when he told Mindy about his and Christina's break up, that there would be some kind of change in their relationship. A meaningful look, maybe? Or ideally, something more concrete that he could actually point to and build off of.

There wasn't anything. Nothing discernible to Danny happened that he could understand to be her relief or interest.

He'd totally botched telling her, too. It all kind of happened one day in the kitchen of the office. He'd gone in for a cup of yogurt to find Mindy, Betsy, and Morgan sitting around a table, slicing fruit on cutting boards and arranging them into containers.

This irritated Danny. They were wasting work time and a huge portion of the staff was… not working. Cutting fruit? Danny was visibly upset by this, saying something that he couldn't remember but was likely said in a short, displeased tone.

He got a hard time for it. Mindy had told him: "Danny this is obviously for the betterment of the practice. Haven't you continuously thought 'man, I could go for some fruit' right now?"

"We have fruit."

"Okay, not individual fruit, like apples and oranges. Look at this: we've got strawberries, kiwis, pineapple…"

Danny cut her off, sighing: "Okay, okay."

He had turned his back to the table to find his yogurt from the fridge. Retrieving a small purple cup with Dr. Castellano printed in Sharpie on the peel-away lid, Danny had meant to leave the kitchen without further confrontation. However, he must have had some sort of annoyed look on his face; Morgan leaned over to Mindy and in a voice hardly close to a whisper said: "What's up with Dr. C?"

Mindy bit her tongue, her eyebrows shooting up in amusement. She continued cutting pineapple silently.

"That's like, his third yogurt this week. Gas? Wife issues?" Morgan's whisper still lacked subtly.

These were the sort of conversations that Danny had no patience for, and refused to condone in his place of work. Danny glanced at Morgan, obviously sour, and perhaps invoked the following comment from Morgan: "Uh oh."

Danny did not like Christina, as his girlfriend, to be referred to as his wife. The whole office had taken to once again referring to Christina as "wife" and the title made Danny anxious. They were divorced and dating. Once married, sure, but no longer.

Danny must have bubbled over with visible anger because Mindy stopped cutting fruit and held her hand up, indicating that he stop right with the annoyed looks. "Okay, easy Jamie Lee Curtis. What's up? Is something concrete actually wrong with you?

"Yeah, Dr. C. It's us." He gestured between his body and Mindy's. "We're like, your best friends. Spill."

Danny had hated Morgan's phrasing but something inside of him, vaguely rooted in sadness, relief, or both, compelled him to sit down at the table in the kitchen and tell them that he and Christina had broken up. Danny was acutely aware of Mindy's reaction, but if she had any, she kept it concealed. Morgan had stolen the focus of the conversation, delving into the supremely intimate details of Danny and Christina's relationship.

Mindy had hardly said anything.

Danny had left that conversation feeling pillaged of privacy and no enlightened on the ambiguous feelings of his coworker.

_TBC _


	3. Thanksgiving

Brothers Raising Brothers

It was Thanksgiving that became a sort of marker in Danny's relationship with Mindy. He recalled last year's Thanksgiving, alone in his office, and knew that it was a low point. He was sad then and this year, though circumstances had changed, he felt his hardened defences weaken. Danny didn't want to be alone this year; he didn't want to press keys on his Yamaha and think about how he'd become a second choice to his wife.

Danny's sadness this year was not for a lack of Christina but for a desire to repair the possibly irreparable damage he had committed against himself. Danny was a private man but no longer wanted to be a recluse.

If it was last November when he'd come to understand that he had a crush on the female co-owner of their practice, it was this November and holiday season where Danny promised that to keep his feelings hidden any longer would be impossible.

Well, that was a dramatic way of putting it. It wasn't unbearable on a day to day basis to keep his relationship with Mindy placated at an occasionally flirty friendship; it was, however, difficult to maintain neutrality when she invited him to her house for Thanksgiving dinner.

Mindy was hosting dinner this year, citing Gwen's family's impromptu trip to New England for the holiday as the reason Mindy would be hosting.

"As you may know from my Twitter, Gwen has ditched on me this Thanksgiving for some loser in-laws in Martha's Vineyard." Mindy had announced to the office.

Morgan booed this, and then assured Mindy that he'd retweeted her. Turning to Danny, who was standing beside him at the reception desk, he'd told him: "And then Gwen unfollowed me. Ouch, right?"

Danny stared blankly at Morgan's talk of a technological platform of which he took no part.

"Anyway," Mindy carried on. "I've taken it upon myself to host Thanksgiving dinner this year and you're all invited!"

Morgan and Betsy cheered.

Mindy held out burnt orange paper invitations that had a gold-leafed foliage design on them, with "Thanksgiving Dinner 2013" written in gold cursive on the front. "Please heed the strict outlines on this invitation. Dress is 'Autumnal Cozy', but jeans are not permitted. Wine as a gift to the hostess is encouraged, because we're all adults here and that's the appropriate thing to do."

Mindy carried on with a few more rules, walking around the office as she spoke, handing out the invitations.

Danny opened his invitation, reading the specifics of the event as Mindy continued to speak.

"Oh, another thing: please take notice of the food sign-up chart I've posted on my office door. I will be making the turkey – with the help of Betsy." Mindy gestured to Betsy and applauded lightly. "Any other side dishes are welcome, with the exception of anything containing curry. That is just not creative and I will accuse you of racial profiling."

Mindy's presentation drew to a close and she exited back to her office. Danny put his invitation into his back pocket and spent the remainder of the day slightly distracted, almost embarrassingly looking forward to Thanksgiving at Mindy's.

.

The office had been given a little over a week's notice of Mindy's dinner and therefore, presumably, had already had other plans for the day. It was only a small group that was able to make it: Danny, Jeremy, Betsy and Morgan.

Danny used this excuse of a small guest list as the reason he'd called his mother and asked his Nonna's cannelloni recipe. Danny's mother insisted that Danny experiment with the recipe with her supervision, thus a trip to Staten Island the weekend before Thanksgiving was born. Having purchased ingredients, Danny spent an entire Sunday (after mass) learning, with excruciating detail, Nonna's exact method of making cannelloni.

"You have to make sure the butcher chops the meat three times." His mother insisted repetitively, pushing him out the door with a number for her butcher's "guy" in Manhattan. "You watch him, Danny. You watch what he does."

On the front stoop of her house, his gut full of fresh pasta and a plastic bag full of garden tomatoes, Danny's mom stopped him right before he could make it onto the sidewalk. Instantly he knew, from the softened, maternal look on her face, what she was about to say. Or at least the general subject of her next sentence: Mindy.

Mrs. Castellano didn't know the specifics. She didn't know Mindy's name was Mindy, but she knew from dialogue Richie that Danny had come into some pretty non-refundable feelings for his co-worker. Danny's mother, smiling slyly, wished him good luck. And then, quietly, as Danny turned around to leave, she told him: "Bring her around sometime."  
.

The invitation stuck with a magnet to Danny's fridge told him that "Festival Cocktails" began at four, and that dinner would commence at seven o'clock.

Dressing was strangely nerve-wracking. Even before he arrived at Mindy's and found the day to be of substantial significance, Danny was nervous. He overthought his belted black jeans and brown button-up; he felt shy buying a bottle of Drew Barrymore's wine that he knew would get a laugh out of Mindy.

It was all so strange. From one year to the next, Danny had changed a remarkable amount and he still felt like he was the only person living in that change. Going to Mindy's for dinner would shock absolutely no one. If anything, Morgan would be the one to comment on the previously reclusive Danny engaging in a social holiday, but otherwise? Danny knew his presence wasn't anything terribly special. Everyone at the office had received an invitation to this dinner – including Parker – and his RSVPing really only meant that, if not for this dinner, he'd have spent Thanksgiving alone again.

Danny swallowed this information as he climbed the steps to Mindy's apartment. The cannelloni in his arms and the paper-bagged bottle of wine lying on top of the casserole dish felt so obvious. So _obviously _out of the Dr. Castellano character that the office knew. Danny didn't want to be obvious. He didn't want his affection and preference for Mindy to ooze from the bottle of celebrity pinot grigio.

It was too late, though. Danny thought about leaving the cannelloni in the elevator or on a floor below Mindy's. He thought about turning around, bolting out the door, and sending Mindy a lie about a last-minute delivery that he had to attend to.

Danny didn't. He was knocking on Mindy's door, staring at the plastic cranberry wreath he knew she'd put up to add elegance to the evening. She swung the door open with exuberance, not avoiding his eyes as he walked it. They maintained eye contact for a second before her eyes fell down to the red casserole dish in his hands.

"Danny! You brought food? You didn't write anything on the sign-up sheet, you cheater."

Mindy's enthusiasm for things was extremely attractive to Danny. If it seemed antagonistic to his own personality, Danny didn't care. He felt encouraged by her, spurred into doing things that were out of his comfort zone and special.

Christina didn't illicit that in him. She was wrapped up in her own pursuits and rarely commentated or praised any of Danny's contributions. Perhaps it was self-indulgent, but Danny liked Mindy's willingness to forfeit her own personal recognition and celebrate others when celebration was due.

Danny was celebrated for his cannelloni. Much like her enthusiasm for his gingerbread house last Christmas, which Danny had marvelled at even in his early blooming stages of affection, he was celebrated for the pasta he'd brought to dinner. It wasn't in keeping with traditional American Thanksgiving foods, but, judging by the platter of gourmet sushi and sashimi in her fridge, that wasn't the theme of the evening.

.

Danny was offered a cocktail on his arrival. Mindy had set up a little bar and prepared cocktails in advance. Little glasses of cranberry and cider sprinkled with nutmeg sat on a tray in her living room.

Sipping cocktails eased Danny's apprehension about his own uncalled for contributions to the Autumnal Cozy evening Mindy had envisioned. There were pumpkin and cinnamon scented candles about her apartment, burning, giving off the aroma of warmth and safety. Party guests were all dressed in warm tones, with scarves and bulky knits. Mindy herself wore a long-sleeved knitted dress, black tights, and boots.

She looked good. She looked really good.

.

Danny milled about quietly, sitting in between a conversation between Jeremy and Morgan. It was a conversation that piqued no interest in Danny and gave him an opportunity to really soak in his surroundings. He was three bourbons into the evening. Cocktail hour was scheduled to be slightly longer than he'd realized, and, as Morgan's appetizer of haphazardly homemade sushi rolls were passed around, Danny came to peace with the fact that he was slightly tipsy.

That was sort of the progression of the night: wine was served with dinner, and so, as the carving of the turkey came into spotlight, Danny was feeling a penetrating sense of well-being. Perhaps this happened to anyone at a table dressed with holiday favorites. Danny couldn't really remember. Whatever it was – whether it was distinct to this particular table – Danny felt happy.

He was happy for reasons that he'd had for years but never appreciated.

He was happy that Morgan was standing over the turkey with a dull serrated knife, slicing away the bird and explaining the quality of each "cut" of meat.

Danny was happy for Betsy and Jeremy, two co-workers who chose to sit next to one another, to pour one another a glass of wine, and to laugh at each other's jokes. Their chemistry was nothing official, but Danny was glad to watch it.

He was happy that Mindy sat at her own table, promising the crowd that this event was not a whimsical holiday moving star Vince Vaughn. "There are not going to be any quirky mishaps, you guys." She told the crowd as she set the turkey down on the table to be carved. "No _Eat Pray Love _situations with the undercooked turkey; no cute-on-screen family conflicts revealed. This dinner is all class, all the time. Deal?"

Danny was extraordinarily happy at the praise his cannelloni received. Mindy was thrilled when he'd walked into her apartment with the casserole dish. She praised him for coming, for making an effort, and seemed to think the Drew Barrymore wine was hilarious.

Danny was glad at how far they'd come. He was glad that, on that evening, he'd been able to recognize the huge difference between him and Mindy exchanging texts last Thanksgiving and her giving him a warm hug of appreciation this year.

That meant something. Danny figured that had to mean something.

_TBC _


	4. Delivery

Brothers Raising Brothers

Dinner was nice. Mindy had prepared all the American essentials, padded by the dishes brought by her guests. It was a quintessentially warm Thanksgiving event. Mindy had finally pulled it off: an office event in her apartment that didn't end in rows of tequila shots or tears.

Progress was made this evening in the little things. Danny felt overly alert at first, and then, as the evening went on and the table was cleared, he relaxed. Sitting around Mindy's dining room table overwhelmed Danny with a real, tangible feeling of thankfulness.

He was grateful to have these colleagues. Nothing sappier than gratitude, but still a firm feeling of appreciation.

Whiskey on the rocks, this gratitude, and his upbringing forced Danny into the kitchen to fill Mindy's sink with water and wash dishes.

Grapefruit scented dish soap, he noticed. Sometimes it was little things, little personal, mundane things about Mindy that Danny liked to know. Maybe it was because he'd never know them if he didn't go to her house, and going to her house meant that they were more than just two doctors who co-owned a practice.

Things like Mindy coming up to Danny while he was washing dishes, resting her hand on his shoulder, and thanking him in bewilderment – almost mockingly – for cleaning up, were the reasons Danny liked being around her so much. She made him feel like his presence was noticed and wanted.

It was also her ease: her willingness to naturally herd everyone into the living room and to suggest they take things into the night and watch a movie. Jeremy and Betsy both passed on the movie, but Morgan immediately sat in front of Mindy's DVD collection, riffling through the wicker baskets of plastic cases.

Mindy was already sitting on her couch, glancing back at Danny still in the kitchen. She called over to him: "You going to come hang out or what?"

Yeah, he was. Danny wiped his hands on a red heart printed tea towel.

So that was how he spent his Thanksgiving. Watching _National Lampoon's Thanksgiving Family Reunion _with Mindy and Morgan, nearly falling asleep opposite of Mindy on her couch.

.

Progress continued from there. Danny found himself willing to go beyond his comfort zone, to experiment in the parameters of what he could get away with and still be platonic. He didn't measure this in a physical sense; getting too grabby felt, to Danny, a little invasive. He didn't want to be some creepy frisker.

Instead, Danny did little gestures; things that he figured would go unnoticed. He was wrong, though. Danny didn't know that he was wrong at the time, but one evening in the doctor's lounge, Danny's acts of kindness were finally addressed by Mindy.

Danny had paid for her lunch on more than one occasion, but Mindy had reciprocated. So how was that out of the ordinary? Danny had told her she looked nice while she changed for a date in the office, frantically trying to hide a run she had just gotten in a pair of sheer pantyhose. He'd coolly kept up to date with Mindy's three date arch of a relationship with some realtor, assuring her that, when it ended, she was better off. He'd accepted the phone number of the cute barista at the coffee shop that he and Mindy frequented in afternoon, right in front of Mindy. She'd high-fived (though perhaps with slightly forced enthusiasm, riddled with insincerity?) him for scoring the digits of a total babe and they went about their day like the friends that they were.

Danny never called the woman, throwing out the napkin with her name and number on it immediately.

They spent a good handful of evenings together at the hospital, sort of rehashing surgeries or deliveries and asking one another for opinions or advice. They'd watched _The Royal Tenenbaums _together in the doctor's lounge, both admitting that they weren't totally sure if they really _got _Wes Anderson films.

"Like, they kind of all look the same, don't they?" Mindy had asked, comfortably sprawled out on the couch. "I just feel like everyone always dresses up as Margot and Richie for Halloween and it's just kind of like, yeah, I get it: you watch 'indie' movies with the Wilson brothers. Cool, man."

.

One evening in the doctor's lounge, Danny acted on impulse, making his romantic inclination toward Mindy extremely clear. He'd shown his feelings physically and irrevocably, and Danny worried about it for days after he'd done it.

He'd been in the doctor's lounge again, eating an apple, laying on his back, and reading a newspaper from a few days prior. It was late, likely around one or two in the morning. Both Danny and Mindy had taken to always, always using the same doctor's lounge, knowing that they'd meet one another in there at least _once _a shift.

At least, Danny had assumed that Mindy kept purposely using that lounge. He thought that she must have preferred being in his company rather than being alone, or with other staff members in different rooms or on different wards.

Mindy came into the lounge with her beeper in her hand. To get a snack, she'd told him.

Danny nodded at this, continuing to read his newspaper. Mindy went over to the vending machine and bought a Nature Valley, circling over to the couch to sit next to him. She sat on the opposite end of the couch and, in what felt to Danny as a comfortable, intimate gesture, lifted his outstretched feet onto her lap.

There were certain things that Mindy did that made Danny run cold. He was an adult man, previously married, and relatively sexually active, but still, little things done by a woman with whom too much intimacy felt forbidden and beyond their relationship, made him feel nervous. He got inside his own head too much; he was barely listening to her describe how she was biding time before a patient was ready to begin pushing. As juvenile as it was, all Danny could really focus on and look at was Mindy's bare arm draped over his ankles, peeling back the cellophane wrapper on her granola bar.

And, just as he couldn't articulate to Richie when his feelings for Mindy really began, he wouldn't be able to articulate when or how he decided to sit up from that couch just then, scoot over to her, slip his arm around her waist and pull her into him.

Danny hadn't necessarily meant to kiss her quite so hard, but he had. For a moment, his entire body felt frigid, waiting in suspended time for her to respond or pull away. It was just a second, this waiting, but Danny felt his beat what felt like a thousand times.

Thank god her reaction had been to kiss him back. It was just that brief hesitancy, and then the two surged together, each snaking their arms around one another haphazardly. Danny had no idea what he was doing or how he was going to explain this, but he truly didn't care about it for those few minutes that he and Mindy were pressed against one another.

It was only after Mindy's pager went off and she sputtered that her patient was ready to deliver that Danny began to feel the dread of explanation sneak up on him. Mindy looked at the antiquated device in her hand, completely thrown off. She looked up at Danny, totally mystified, and told him, like he had no idea what a beeping pager meant.

Wordlessly, Danny nodded, lifting his hand to gesture to the door. Mindy raced out, her scrubs slightly twisted on her body from the firm grip Danny had just had on her.

Easing back into a regular sitting position on the couch, Danny just stared at the door. He stretched his arms out across the back of the couch as though what had just happened had physically exhausted him.

It had, I guess. His adrenaline was pumping and he absolutely no clue what he would say to Mindy when he saw her next.

Absolutely no idea.

_Tbc_


	5. Doctor's Lounge

Brothers Raising Brothers

Their kiss wouldn't get addressed for over twenty four hours. Mindy had stayed late into the morning at the hospital, as Danny later found out. The delivery had undergone a few complications, forcing Mindy to stay longer than anticipated. She didn't come into the office the next day until late in the afternoon, missing Danny by less than thirty minutes. He had gone to the hospital for a delivery himself.

It was strange, not seeing her. It only made the tension and stress of _what _he would say when he _did _see her that much more unbearable. And Danny truly didn't believe that he was acting dramatically when he said that not knowing her reaction was unbearable.

Danny had never pegged Mindy for the type to conceal her feelings. If she felt something, it had always been Danny's experience with her that she would share it. Gas? Mindy told them. A zit? Mindy occasionally would spend part of her day in her office with a spot treatment dabbed on the little bugger.

She was open, which was so much a part of her charm. At the very least, Danny had least expected a "wtf dude" text at some point.

He got nothing. And it was slightly excruciating to _not _tell anyone! So he'd told Richie. Giving his brother ammunition to mock him forever on his inability to hide his excitement, Danny had called Richie and told him that he'd accidentally kissed Mindy in the middle of the night at the hospital.

Richie was excited. He had asked Danny a long list of questions, not waiting for an answer from Danny, when he cut himself off, citing his reason as his manager walking back into the office. "Oh, boss is back. I gotta go. Call me later!"

Danny was going to. There was something really nice about relishing in excitement with someone else. Danny rarely did this. Pain and pleasure were typically experienced by Danny under a mask, never letting on which emotion it was that he was feeling.

He was going to call Richie back but a day full of appointments, later interrupted by a dinner-hour labour.

Danny spent that evening at the hospital with his young teen patient and her boyfriend, only finding brief seconds here and there to remember that it was only last night, or really early that morning, that he'd kissed Mindy. That their not crossing paths at work was likely just a scheduling coincidence; nothing to do with avoidance.

Waves of such confidence would be replaced by waves of insecurity. And then professionalism and concentration would push Danny back into the present and to the patient at hand.

.

It was on this evening that Danny had to come to terms with his decision to practice non-avoidance. He'd had a routine delivery with his patient, calculated the baby's scores, and slipped out of the room as the nurse began weighing the tiny infant.

A need for coffee led Danny to the doctor's lounge. Mindy was sitting the lounge, alone, dressed in regular clothes. It amazed Danny how consistently he and Mindy were alone in this lounge. Did no other doctors on the maternity ward need caffeine?

Seeing Mindy there in the lounge, bundled in a black down-filled vest over top of her work clothes, startled Danny. He couldn't remember a time in his adult life that the surprise presence of a woman had caught him so off guard.

What else was he supposed to say other than his uneven-toned "Hey."

Mindy offered no formal hello. She greeted Danny with: "So I ran into your brother at the office today." After that, Danny didn't really catch what she said. He was brimming with panic; completely transported from his post-work exhaustion to a state of heightened awareness. Through his panic, Danny caught the tail end of whatever Mindy had been saying: "…say 'Danny finally did it'. And then when I didn't answer him, he just gasped and left. He literally gasped, Danny."

Danny hadn't heard everything she'd said, so he just stared at her, dumbfounded. He knew he sounded like an idiot, asking her to repeat what she had said.

Mindy frowned, visibly frustrated. "_Why _did Richie tell me that he was so excited that you finally _did _it?" She waited for him to have some sort of response, but Danny didn't. So Mindy probed: "What's going on?"

And that was sort of how it happened: how Danny had to be honest about his feelings for Mindy in a supremely non-idyllic circumstance. Danny had always refused Mindy's deluded expectation for theatrical romance, but in this circumstance, here in the hospital, he was so caught off guard that it felt wrong to keep talking.

He had no choice. This conversation was happening now and Danny's only option of avoiding it would be to lie. To lie in this circumstance would undo Danny's chances of anything ever _happening _with Mindy and that was not what he wanted. So, a forceful push into the resolution to be okay with vulnerability led Danny to finally, finally articulate how he felt.

Sort of.

Mindy impatience with Danny's lack of answer cornered Danny into an absolute trap: "This all seems weirdly hush hush. What's the deal? Are you, like, crazy in love with me or something?"

Danny knew that his eyes bolted up in that moment, shocked to hear those words. Richie's accidental conversation with Mindy had set Danny up to finally have the confrontation he'd wanted.

"Yes" was all Danny said in response.

At this, Mindy's eyes bulged out of her head and her mouth fell open. Her arms that were previously crossed over her chest in defiance and annoyance came undone, falling heavily by her side. Danny had gone from looking directly at Mindy to looking away, now crossing his own arms across his chest in protection.

"Whoa." Mindy said slowly, jarring her neck back to look at Danny with a confused, suspicious frown on her face. "That is nuts." And then her confusion turned upward into a smile and she starting laughing. "I knew it."

She knew it?

Mindy stood up and walked up to where Danny was standing in the lounge entrance, limp and slightly scared. She grinned and softly pushed him on the shoulder. "I _knew _you liked me. You're such a liar."

Danny touched the spot on his shoulder that she had pushed, a little dazed, trying to formulate something to say in retaliation or to defend her accusation of his total transparency. He couldn't really think of anything. Mindy was staring at him, smiling widely. It was like she was supressing happy laughter. Danny couldn't _not _smile at this: her unadulterated joy and smugness, staring right at him.

He broke into an amused smile. Relieved.

Mindy interrupted any moment for Danny to finally say something by throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him. To confirm Mindy's theory of _knowing_, Danny locked his arms around Mindy's down-filled waist, feeling the air puff out from her vest and shrink beneath his firm, firm hold.

.

Later, as Danny changed out of his scrubs to go home from the hospital after his shift, he checked the screen of his cell phone that had been sitting in his locker. Mindy was waiting for him, wandering around the hospital, chatting with colleagues while Danny finished with his patient and went back to check on the baby. At Danny's suggestion that they go somewhere to eat that night, Mindy had gestured down to her bicycle printed shirt-waist dress, winter vest, and fingerless gloves, insisting that she go home and change.

"Don't go change." Danny had told her, reaching out to rest an assuring hand on her shoulder. "You look nice."

Mindy smiled at this, nodded, and told him that she'd be hanging around the maternity ward whenever he was ready.

Hurriedly changing back into his own office clothes, Danny pressed his phone to his ear as he slung his bag over his shoulder and locked his locker. One new voicemail from Richie.

"Hey, uh… not sure if you talk ta Mindy yet, but uh… listen, Danny, I ran inta her on the elevator at your office. I was just comin to see how ya were. I was in the neighbahood. I might'a said something about you twos last night to uh, Mindy there, and uh, well, she was surprised. I was scared that she was goin ta press the emergency button in the elevator, ya know? She seems like that kinda a woman. A loose cannon. Anyway, I left. So, uh…if you get the chance to talk ta her and she mentions something about me…I'm sorry, Danny. I really am. I thought ya would've talked ta her by then, but I guess not. You should talk ta her, man. Just go for it." Richie waited a moment. "Uh, anyway, sorry about that. Hopefully you get this before you kill me. Bye!"

Danny slipped his phone into his leather bag, truly unable to supress a tooth-baring grin seeing Mindy waiting for him, chatting with Eric, the patient check-in receptionist. "You ready?" He asked her.

"Yup!" Mindy waved goodbye to the receptionist.

"Have fun you two!" Eric cooed, clapping his hands excitedly. "Big date!"

"You _told _him?"

Mindy nodded her head, shrugging. "Of course I told him. God, Danny, you're so secretive." Mindy linked her arm through his, walking out of the automatic doors of the hospital. "Just be happy."

Danny was happy. He really, really was happy.

_Fin._


End file.
